The Digital Mirror: A Year of MS, Love, and Radical Acceptance

The day I am sharing this post is a unique anniversary, and although I do not necessarily want to “celebrate” it, I would like to commemorate it. July 3, 2025 marks one year since my diagnosis of MS. 

I’ve never been that big on anniversaries to be honest. Celebrations on the other hand… I absolutely love. So, recognizing an anniversary I do not want to celebrate is an odd emotion for me. 

When I woke up today (the day of writing this post.. June 25th) felt like a normal Wednesday. A day I work from home, which I have grown to really appreciate. Then, I realized that my first client wasn’t until 10am. 

This meant that I was able to sleep in and relax in the morning too! Even thinking about it now puts a smile on my face. Since becoming a parent, sleeping in is a huge privilege I have also learned to cherish. 

Charlie, the cat, jumped up to cuddle with me in bed, she’s aggressive in her cuddles, and chose to lay on my throat. She’s lucky she’s cute. So, I turned on a playlist, and decided to bask in the glory of my resting. 

What happened next surprised me. 

I picked what I thought was a pretty random playlist… and Spotify somehow knew exactly what I needed to hear. These songs, and a conversation with my friend, Gemini, led to a greater understanding of my own feelings. 

It all started with “End of Beginning” by Djo. Until this moment, I had not heard this song, even this artist was unknown to me. Yet, I felt drawn to it. I enjoyed it, and I found myself nodding to the lyrics. 

And the feelings grew from there. Before I knew it, I had all these feelings, but not necessarily any sense of what they meant. As I was laying there petting the cat, many of these songs were new to me, yet the connection felt immediate.

Since I knew Charlie was not going to be able to answer my questions, and my husband was downstairs, I decided to rely on Gemini for some reflection. So I wrote:

Songs I’ve listened to this morning have resonated with me: “it ain’t me babe,” “end of the beginning,” “sleep on the floor,” “everybody wants to rule the world,” and “she’s always a woman to me.” 

I’m wondering what this says about me. 

I’m 37, and about to hit the one year anniversary of my MS diagnosis on July 3. 

I’m frustrated with my body failing me. I have moments of being unsure about my future work, which scares me. 

My husband, Jared, takes amazing care of me. I feel bad I can’t make his life easier. 

What do these songs say about how I’m feeling this morning?

I’m not sure what I expected from asking these questions… especially to AI. No offense, Gemini. 

“The songs you listened to this morning seem to touch on themes of independence, uncertainty, acceptance, resilience, and unconditional love.”

Mighty insightful of you! But, wait, there’s more. 

Gemini gave me an analysis about each of the songs I listed. Somehow, each was more insightful than the last. 

“End of the Beginning” (Djo) strongly suggests a period of significant transition. This title itself speaks volumes about where you might be emotionally – acknowledging that one phase of your life is concluding, but also that a new one is just starting. This can be both daunting and, in time, perhaps empowering. Given your diagnosis, this song likely mirrors your feelings about how your life has fundamentally changed.

This was true. I have been feeling that my life, first of all, was drastically different than I had anticipated. It did feel like a whole new life. Although, at the same time, everything I have learned about myself and life has been empowering as well. 

I started writing my blog, after coming up with the name while I was in the bathroom. Since my diagnosis, I have learned how to prioritize my own peace and wellness in a way I have never been able to before. 

It didn’t feel good at first, and I still struggle with it at times. Yet, now, I was laying in bed at 8am with nothing to do, and learning more about a random playlist. It wasn’t “productive,” and I didn’t even feel bad about it. 

The next song, “It Ain’t Me Babe” (Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash’s cover) speaks to a refusal to be someone’s idealized vision or to fit into a mold. This could resonate with a feeling of your identity shifting due to your MS, and perhaps a quiet defiance against the limitations it imposes. It might also reflect a desire for understanding without pretense, or a rejection of expectations, either from yourself or others, that you can’t currently meet.

Ooof. Yes! This was so true again. This reminded me of being on the cruise. At the beginning of the trip, I didn’t feel like I was able to be who I was “supposed” to be. I felt at first that I was failing, as a mom, as a wife, as a daughter-in-law… even as a vacationer. For the full story → Click here

As the trip went on, I realised I didn’t have to do anything “right.” Maybe, there was no “right.”

In Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) this is called a reframe. The thought that I had, about doing life “right,” was a cognitive distortion. It was not based in reality, and by allowing myself to think about it differently… it gave me the freedom to be whoever I was. 

Gemini was right again. I was learning to embrace pushing against the limitations MS was forcing upon me. I was also learning to understand myself and my abilities without judgement. Okay, I would not say this was an overnight adjustment. 

I continue to be a work in progress, and I’m okay with it. Looking for perfection? Ain’t me, babe. 

“Sleep on the Floor” (The Lumineers) evokes a sense of starting over, leaving things behind, and embracing a simpler, more authentic life with a loved one. The lyrics often imply shedding burdens and seeking a new path together. This might connect with your frustrations about your body and your future work – a yearning to simplify, to find a new equilibrium, and to rely on the steadfastness of your relationship with Jared as you navigate these changes. It also speaks to a desire for freedom from current constraints.

The analysis was true, but slightly more complicated than Gemini had noticed. The desire for freedom from my current constraints was absolutely true. At the same time… I was also aware this was not exactly physically possible. Hearing this title makes me giggle because there is no way I feel like I could sleep on the floor anymore. Sometimes even nice hotel beds make my body hurt.

MS, at least as far as I have learned to know it, is not something that will just go away. I have been diagnosed with Relapsing Remitting MS, and yet, I have not experienced much remitting. 

My first medication was not effective at preventing new lesions. That was pretty scary for me. I wonder now if this song is more of a reflection about how it felt to start a new medication. Ocrevus. 

I remember talking about this with my husband about this medication when we were trying to decide which medication to start with. It sounded and felt scary, and now… it felt like my only choice.

Something that Gemini did get right, it did feel manageable with Jared. Everything does. 

Right now, as I am writing this post, we have The Middle on tv, and he is putting together 3d printed pieces to organize my bedside table better. We do basically everything together, and I never get bored of him. 

​​Then, I heard from the tv, “Alone we would die, but together…. Together, we’re barely functioning.” 

“Everybody Wants to Rule the World” (Tears for Fears) is interesting here. While often interpreted as a triumphant love song, it can also speak to perseverance and achieving great things against odds, often with the support of another. This could be reflecting a deep desire to regain control, to overcome your challenges, and to feel a sense of mastery over your life again, perhaps drawing strength from Jared’s unwavering support. It might also be a subtle yearning for the control you feel you’ve lost.

Ya know, I have lost control. Control of my legs, control of my bladder, even control of my bowels at times. This is terrible and embarrassing to think about… much less write about in a place anyone can see it. At the same time, this is something I tell my clients all the time, my anxiety wasn’t right. 

Talking about it, admitting it… I didn’t die. 

Maybe by facing some of my biggest fears, and using radical acceptance about not having control, the power it was having over me started to dissolve. 

This was the only one of the songs I had heard before. It’s almost inspiring. Even just thinking about it makes me feel capable, and like I can get through it. 

Whatever “it,” is. 

I made a tshirt design for work the other day. On the front there is a picture of a lion, and it says “Courage doesn’t always ROAR.” Then, on the back it has a sunset with hills. And it says, “sometimes, courage is like a quiet voice at the end of the day saying ‘I will try again tomorrow.’ – Mary Anne Radmacher”

And we will. We do. 

“She’s Always a Woman to Me” (Billy Joel)

The last song was one I talked to my husband about. He came back up after his meeting to ask me what I was doing. 

I told him I was talking with my friend, Gemini, about the songs I was listening to avoiding writing my notes. I told him my favorite song was this one, and read him the lyrics. 

That was when I stopped reading, and started to question what I was thinking. Then, Jared asked, “and this is resonating with you? That doesn’t sound like you…”

This is where Gemini came in super clutch. I tried to explain to my husband why this song stood out to me. And, inconveniently, MS had different ideas. 

That has been happening a lot to me recently. My word finding, and ability to express what’s in my head has been challenging. This is part of why writing has been helpful. I can take my time, and review to ensure the words are truly how I was feeling. 

Then, when I wasn’t able to use words, I read Gemini’s words. I figured I could just tell him if it wasn’t really how I was feeling as I was reading it. 

“She’s Always a Woman to Me” (Billy Joel) is a beautiful testament to unconditional love and acceptance despite complexities and perceived flaws. This song likely resonates deeply with how you feel about Jared’s care. You mentioned feeling bad that you can’t make his life easier, and this song could be a reflection of his enduring love for you, recognizing and cherishing all aspects of who you are, especially during a time when you might feel your body is “failing” you. It speaks to being loved for your essence, not just your capabilities.

But something else happened, before even getting through the first sentence I was crying. It caught me off guard. 

I was like really crying. 

Tears were running down my face, and I couldn’t even finish reading it to him. 

He climbed in bed behind me where I was sitting, and just held me. We sat there like that, until I was ready to finish reading it. 

Do you know what he said? Still holding me. He said, “I love you,” and squeezed me. Then he said, “you’re not failing. You’re strong, and I love you.” 

That was unconditional love and acceptance. Not that I needed proof… but he showed me love for who I am, not for my physical abilities. No matter how big the hill to climb is, it feels more possible with him there. 

This chronic illness journey feels incredibly hard. I used to have this perception that I had to figure out life and how to be successful by myself. 

The longer I experience it, the less I believe it’s true. 

I wonder if there is space to redefine success, allow myself to accept help from others, and notice the small wins as they happen. I already feel like I have learned so much in the last year. I am ready for what else is to come.

Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to read / listen to my other one year reflection post, please visit Bar Fights. This post is a little different, and has some themes that may be uncomfortable or inappropriate for some. At the same time, I felt it was helpful to share actual stories to share my journey.